


Pains and Sufferings of a PTA Meeting

by ktsukaharas



Category: The Creatures (Youtube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Parents, Alternate Universe - Teachers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 14:28:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6156577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ktsukaharas/pseuds/ktsukaharas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James hates going to PTA meetings and he hates seeing Mr. Marchant even more. But he would do anything for his son, even if it meant not throwing Aleks’s stupid, stale banana bread into his stupid, annoying face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pains and Sufferings of a PTA Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to proofread more than I did the last work (which I barely did). Hopefully there isn't too many grammar mistakes lol.

“Why do I have to go to PTA meetings again, Michael?” James asks, as his third grader drags him into the school. 

“So you and Mr. Marchant can talk about what’s going on at my school,” Michael explains, something he constantly has to tell his dad, “And Mr. Marchant says he made delicious snacks for the meeting!” 

James rolls his eyes as he allows his son to drag him into the classroom where the meeting was held. He knows Mr. Marchant can’t bake for shit. Pretty much everything he’s brought for the meeting was too disgusting for James’s taste. 

James and Michael enter the classroom where about fifteen other parents are chatting and eating whatever snacks they’ve brought for each other. As the two walk to their seats, James can hear their conversations, each response sounding absolutely robotic. 

“These brownies are very delicious Lauren, are they homemade?” 

“My son has been doing very well in school. He’s going to become a doctor!” 

“How funny Susan, I just finished a game of golf at the country club too!” 

James wants to gag. 

He finally takes a seat toward the back of the room. This is probably the fourth PTA (Parent Teacher Association) meeting he was forced to come to and he hated each one equally. Each one with robotic parents that believe they’re doing so much for the school, each one with Mr. Marchant talking way too cheerfully in the front of the class, and each one with that one annoying parent who talks too much. 

Michael sits cheerfully next to James, kicking his feet back and forth, eagerly waiting for Mr. Marchant to start speaking. James knows Michael doesn’t really want to go to the PTA meetings so he could get details on the next school fundraiser. Michael looks up to Mr. Marchant like he’s the greatest hero in the world. James can’t help but feel slightly jealous as he watches Michael’s eyes light up when Mr. Marchant clears his throat to signal the start of the meeting. 

Mr. Marchant jabbers on for almost two hours straight. James finds his nasally voice annoying, especially having to hear it for 120 minutes in a row. The way he acts way too cheery than needed at a PTA meeting irks James for some reason, he knows Mr. Marchant is only doing his job, but James can’t help but feel utterly annoyed. 

When Mr. Marchant finishes he quickly adds, “Make sure you all try my banana bread!” 

James looks over to the tray of banana bread on the table of food. Michael marches over to it and grabs two slices, one for his dad and one for himself. James watches as Michael walks it back to him, trying his hardest to hide his disgust. 

“Here daddy, you try it first!” Michael holds up the slice to James’s face. James takes the slice and politely thanks his son, taking small bites from the bread. Just as he thought, it’s stale as hell. What else could he expect from Mr. Marchant, the baking catastrophe himself? 

James looks over at Michael whose face is scrunched up in disgust after also taking a bite of the bread, “Maybe we shouldn’t tell Mr. Marchant his banana bread tastes nasty.” He suggests. 

James nods in agreement, taking both his and Michael’s slice and tossing it in the trash. 

Right before James suggests to leave, Mr. Marchant walks up to them. Michael immediately runs over to him and gives him a hug. 

“Hello Mr. Wilson,” Mr. Marchant greets after hugging his son, “How are you today?” 

“I’m fine Mr. Marchant.” James answers simply, not really wanting to have a conversation with the younger man. 

“Mr. Marchant, did you make the banana bread yourself?” Michael asks, pulling on the bottom of Mr. Marchant’s button up. 

“Why yes, I did, Michael! Did you like it?” 

Michael’s eyes widen at the question and he looks over to his dad, hoping he would answer for him. 

“Um…” James scratches the back of his neck, guiltily looking at Mr. Marchant, “It wasn’t exactly our taste…” 

“My daddy can bake very well, can’t you daddy? Maybe for the next meeting he can bake for everyone instead!” Michael suggests enthusiastically. 

Mr. Marchant looked slightly indignant on the criticism of his banana bread but instantly smiled at Michael’s suggestion, “Of course Michael! If your dad doesn’t mind,” Mr. Marchant’s annoying face smiled at James, “Do you mind Mr. Wilson? It’s not too much of a trouble?” 

James might be slightly overthinking it, but he sees a glint of challenge in Mr. Marchant’s eyes, irritating him even more, “Of course I don’t mind Mr. Marchant. I can bake anything Michael wants me to.” James says, almost completely sarcastically. 

Mr. Marchant claps, “Then I can’t wait until the next meeting! I can’t wait to try whatever you bake Mr. Wilson,” Aleks looks down to face Michael, “And I’ll see  _ you _ on Monday.” Michael smiles brightly at Mr. Marchant and takes his dad’s hand. James lets his son lead him out of the classroom as he sees Mr. Marchant happily interact with the other parents. How annoying. 

Michael swings his and James’s hand back and forth as they walk across the parking lot, happily humming a tune. Michael was always happy after seeing Mr. Marchant whether it was after a meeting or after school. It slightly annoys James how much Michael talks about Mr. Marchant, always saying how nice his teacher is. Could his son not see how obnoxious his teacher was?

“I want Mr. Marchant to be my dad.” Michael says, still swinging their arms back and forth. 

James looks down at Michael, face instantly falling into a frown, but he shakes it away, “Yeah? Why is that?”  

“Because,” Michael looks up at his dad, smiling, “I want two dads.” Michael holds up two fingers, as if James wouldn’t know how many two would be. 

James laughs, “Two dads? Then all of your friends would be jealous.” 

“Yeah, if you and Mr. Marchant were both my dad then I would have the best dads in the world!” Michael continues talking as James lifts him into the car and onto his carseat, “Then Mr. Marchant would learn how to bake better if you teach him. Then we could all go to the beach! Then we could all get ice cream! And then-” 

Michael continues rambling when James turns the ignition on. He talks about how they could all go watch movies and make popcorn together. They could all celebrate each other’s birthdays by baking everyone cake of their favorite flavors. Michael goes on and on about his fantasy about having both Mr. Marchant and James as his dads. James finds it kind of weird that Michael fantasizes about his teacher and his dad getting together but he allows his son to keep talking. Whatever makes him happy.

Monday afternoon, James waits outside the school and watches as the other parents also pick up their kids. He’s been waiting for almost twenty minutes and Michael still hasn’t come out of the school, tempted to barge in and get his son himself. He would think Michael would come running out of the building since the day before he promised to take his son to the park after. James’s is worried. Thirty seconds before James was going to rush into the school looking for his son, Michael is dragging an apprehensive Mr. Marchant out of the school along with him. 

“Daddy! Mr. Marchant said he wanted to go to the park with us!” Michael says when he stops in front of his dad.

“Hey, wait now Michael. I didn’t say that,” Mr. Marchant scratches the back of his head, “Sorry Mr. Wilson. Michael was drawing a picture of the park and asked if I wanted to go too and I thought he meant in the picture so I-”

James stops Mr. Marchant’s rambling, “It’s fine Mr. Marchant. If you want to go to the park with us you can. If you’re not busy, that is.” James realize that he just invited Mr. Marchant, the annoying school teacher, to go to the park with him and his son. Why’d he do that?

Mr. Marchant flashes a small smile at James, making the older slightly blush. His son’s teacher is actually really cute, when he isn’t being annoying at PTA meetings, “That would be really nice Mr. Wilson, but I have tons of papers to grade,” Mr. Marchant crouches down to a pouting Michael, “Maybe next week Michael, Okay?” 

“Promise?” Michael holds out a pinky. 

Mr. Marchant looks up hesitantly toward James, he nods his head in approval and he intertwines his pinky with Michael’s, “Promise,” Mr. Marchant stands up, “I hope you have fun at the park Michael and I’ll see you tomorrow Mr. Wilson.” 

“Goodbye Mr. Marchant.” James waves as the teacher walks back inside the school. 

“Daddy,” Michael says after he’s strapped into his carseat, “Can we go home?”

“Home? Didn’t you want to go to the park?” James asks, looking at his son through the rearview mirror. 

“Yeah, but now I want to go home and bake for Mr. Marchant. Then next time we go to the park, it will be with Mr. Marchant!” Michael grins, clutching his backpack. 

James grins at the mirror, it always made him happy to see Michael so ecstatic, “Sure, do you know what Mr. Marchant likes to eat?” 

After James makes Michael finish his homework, they bake in the kitchen for two, almost three hours. James doesn’t really talk about it, but he prides himself on being the best baker out of his family and friends. A skill he picked up after dicking around the internet for several hours and having tons of free time after high school. 

“Do you think Mr. Marchant will like these?” Michael asks James, holding up an overly frosted cupcake. 

James rubs Michael’s heard, laughing, “Of course he will.” 

Michael adds more sprinkles onto the cupcake, sticking his tongue out, as if choosing very carefully of the placement of each sprinkle. 

James packs three cupcakes into Michael’s lunchbox for him to take to school the next day and placed the rest in the fridge. Preparing himself to get Michael ready for bed, one of the hardest things to do, especially after doing something so exciting. 

The next day James is waiting outside the school again. For some reason, he’s nervous. He taps his feet on the pavement as he waits for Michael to walk out of the school building. This time, Michael is talking to Mr. Marchant rapidly hand in hand, but not rushing outside like he was the day before. Mr. Marchant is nodding calmly to everything Michael says, then looks up and smiles at James. James smiles back sheepishly. Shit. He feels like a middle schooler with a crush. 

“Hello Mr. Wilson. I really liked the cupcakes you and Michael made. They were very delicious.” Mr. Marchant compliments. 

“It was no big deal,” James shrugs humbly, “It was all Michael’s idea.” 

“I would love to pay you back,” Mr. Marchant grins, “Are you busy Friday night? I was thinking dinner? That is, if you don’t mind.” 

James instantly blushes, “D-Dinner?” He stutters, “I-I don’t know…” 

“I wouldn’t mind making you and Michael dinner on friday after school. I promise, my dinner making skills are way better than my baking skills.” Mr. Marchant’s grin grows even bigger. _ This guy is such an teasing asshole _ , James thinks to himself.

Michael pulls on James’s sleeve, “I want to taste what Mr. Marchant would make for dinner.” 

James sighs, hoping his slight blush would disappear, “Sure, Mr. Marchant. You’re welcome to make us dinner on Friday.” 

“Excellent,” Mr. Marchant crouches down and hugs Michael, bidding him goodbye, “I’ll see you two then. Goodbye!” James watches Mr. Marchant stand up and retreat into the school building, silently cursing at the annoying, shitty baking, cute third grade teacher that might be stealing his heart. 

Conversation is easy with Mr. Marchant. James finds himself easily lost into their conversation as he drives them to his house after Michael gets out of school on Friday. Mr. Marchant (“Call me Aleks,” Mr. Marchant- Aleks says, grinning mischievously making James gulp nervously and hot under the collar). The radio barely loud enough to hear over their conversation. 

James and Aleks talked about many things. From Michael and work to video games and childhood, James doesn’t remember the last time he could talk to someone so freely. 

“You know, James, I honestly thought you hated me the first few times we met,” Aleks admits, “It surely seemed like it.” 

“Yeah? Well, you’re not wrong,” James laughs, “Especially eating your horrible baking every month made me slowly dislike you even more.” 

“Hey,” Aleks exclaimed, acting offended, “I try my hardest at baking.”

“You should try harder then.”

“Maybe you can teach me.” 

James looks over to the passenger's seat, Aleks holding a suggestive grin, “Maybe tonight then? After dinner?” James suggests quickly facing the road again, hoping Aleks wouldn’t see the faint blush now forming on the driver’s cheeks. 

Aleks laughs; It’s warm and comfortable, “Of course and Michael can help too.” 

“If he isn’t knocked out by then.” James says, hearing Michael suddenly snore loudly in the seat behind him. 

The night was overwhelmingly pleasant and weirdly didn’t feel at all unusual. Although, previously jealous of Michael’s attachment to Mr. Marchant, James found it actually quite endearing tonight. He never knew watching another man coo and dote on his son would be adorable. He found himself watching the other two fondly multiple times throughout the night as they both got flour over their faces and frosting on their hands. James is ultimately whipped. 

Surprisingly, Aleks continued going over to the Wilsons’ residence each week and prepared a meal then James would bake them desert. It became a delightful habit. James found himself, along with Michael, eagerly awaiting for Friday to come so he could have a proper conversation with Mr. Marchant. 

“You know James, I wonder why you don’t bake for any of the PTA meetings if you bake so well.” Aleks says, holding up a piece of a caramel brownie James just finished baking.

“I wouldn’t want to bake for…” James looks at Michael then began to whisper, “Those assholes.”

Aleks laughs, “Oh. I know very well how rude many of those parents could be. But honestly, your brownies could kick Mrs. Thomas’s quiche in the ass.”

“Swear word, Mr. Marchant.” Michael warns sternly, shaking his finger at his teacher. 

Aleks laughs, apologizing, “Sorry Michael, it slipped.” 

James hums, “Maybe next meeting. When is that anyways?” 

“Next week!” Michael pipes, “Mr. Marchant told our class about it yesterday.”

Aleks nods, “So? What do you say Mr. Wilson?” 

“Sure, I guess,” James shrugs, “Why not?” 

Aleks flashes the brightest smile James has ever seen; He hopes Mr. Marchant can’t hear his heart thumping. 

James nervously carries a tray of cupcakes toward the school building, Aleks walking beside him while holding Michael’s hand as they walk across the parking lot. 

“Hey,” Aleks places a calming hand on James’s shoulder, “No need to be so nervous. They’re just parents too, just like you.” 

“You don’t really see too many dads at a PTA meeting by themselves.” James grumbles. 

“Hey,” Aleks rubs James’s shoulder soothingly, “You’re not by yourself. You’ve got me there too.” 

James swears his heart skips a beat. 

When they entered the classroom, Aleks leaves James and Michael’s side to go to the front of the room. James carefully places the tray of cupcakes on the table with the rest of the homemade snacks. He then took his familiar seat in the back corner of the room. 

“Don’t be so nervous daddy,” Michael pats James’s arm, “Mr. Marchant says all the parents would be jealous of your cupcakes because you bake so much better than them.” 

“Thanks Mikey.” James grin back, patting his son’s hand. 

Aleks coughs, signalling the start of the meeting. Unlike all the other meetings, James didn’t annoyingly listen to Mr. Marchant speak, instead watched how animatly the teacher talked. He was enthusiastic about his job, speaking passionately about the school’s difficulties and obstacles. Although, it didn’t really interest James that much, it was inspiring to see Mr. Marchant speak so passionately about something he loves. 

“And be sure to taste Mr. Wilson’s delicious cupcakes!” Aleks says, concluding the meeting. James instantly flushes as the rest of the parents turn toward him. James doesn’t usually like gaining attention, especially during a PTA meeting. 

A few moms curiously walked over to James’s cupcake tray, picking up a few. James turned the other way so he doesn’t have to face the wrath of Ms. Johnson complaining about not using organic ingredients or Ms. Smith’s complaints of the color pallet he used on the cupcakes. 

To his surprise, he gets a small chorus of, “This is delicious!” and “Mmm’s!” from the table. James peeks toward his tray of cupcakes, a couple of moms walking toward him and Michael. Oh great. 

“Mr. Wilson, I never knew you were so talented in the kitchen,” Mr. Johnson complimented, “How come you’ve never brought in anything before?”

“Well I-” 

Another mom cut James off before he could even answer the first one, “Oh please do give me your recipe, Mr. Wilson. I would certainly love to bake some of these for my sister’s baby shower!” 

“I’ve only ever-”

“Mr. Wilson! Please do tell me, if your frosting homemade or store bought? It’s to  _ die _ for!”

James is overwhelmed with polite-mom talk, thankfully Michael takes over for him. 

“I know the recipe by heart!” Michael says proudly. The crowd of moms coo at his son as Michael eagerly tells them James’s recipe (that he just got online, honestly). 

“Hey.” Aleks calls over, gesturing James to come to the front of the classroom.

James happily obliges and quickly walks toward Aleks, leaving Michael with all the attention of the doting mothers. 

“Sorry for overwhelming you for a bit over there,” Aleks apologizes, “I forgot how um…  _ Appreciative _ these PTA moms can be.”

“No problem. It’s just who they are I guess?” James shrugs, “But hey, you might’ve made these PTA meetings just a little bit bearable.” 

“Yeah? How so?” Aleks smirks. 

“Well, maybe because I get to see your stupid face talk for two hours straight. And now, instead of those mom’s glaring at me, they’ll look at me in admiration.” James smirks back. 

“Those PTA moms can’t look at you while I’m talking,” Aleks fake pouts, “Especially if I can’t.” 

James laughs. The two have been flirting back and forth for almost a month now. James doesn’t know when or if he would take the next step. But for now, he’s content with just talking to Aleks, casually and comfortably. 

“Mr. Marchant,” Mrs. Thomas interrupts, “Can you come over here for a second?” 

Aleks sighs, nodding toward Mrs. Thomas. Before leaving he looks over to James, “Will you and Michael wait until I finish cleaning up after the meeting?” 

“Of course.” James assures. 

“Mr. Marchant.” Mrs. Thomas calls out again. 

“I’m coming Mrs. Thomas, sorry for the wait!” Aleks speed walks over to Mrs. Thomas, saying a swift goodbye to James. He snickers to himself at the silly gait Aleks has as he walks to Mrs. Thomas, in his light blue button up, rolled up sleeves, and ugly brown pants. James can’t believe he’s so infatuated with such a dork.

James and Michael wait outside the school, sitting on the curb. Michael is tightly holding James’s hand while holding a cupcake in the other. 

“Daddy, if you and Mr. Marchant date, you’ll promise not to forget about me right? Not like what mommy did?” Michael says suddenly, pulling James out of his thoughts. 

James looks sadly at his son, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and pulling him closer, “Never ever, Michael. I never would.”

“Promise?” Michael sets his cupcake down on the curb and sticks out a pinky toward James, leaning onto his dad.

James intertwines his pinky with his son’s, “Promise.” 

Michael wiggles out of his dad’s hold when he hears Mr. Marchant come out of the school building. He runs into Aleks’s embrace, “Mr. Marchant! Why didn’t you want us to help you clean?”

“You and your dad did enough already by baking those cupcakes for everyone. Cleaning with the other teachers was the least I could do,” Aleks explains, grin forming on his face, “But don’t worry. Your dad is driving me home.” 

Aleks grabs Michael’s hand as they walk to the car, walking between James and his son. Suddenly, James feels the teacher take his own hand too. He glances at their entwined fingers, then looks at Aleks. Aleks flashes a quick grin at the older, squeezing their hands comfortably. James scoffs but squeezes back; He can’t help but smile to himself. 

Michael talks rapidly while Aleks pleasantly rubs his thumb over James’s wrist a couple of times. James doesn’t really remember the last time he was so addicted to someone’s touch. 

James can’t help but be disappointed when Aleks lets go of his hand when he sets Michael in his carseat. James walks over to the driver’s seat, missing the warmth of Aleks’s hand in his. Before he could fully be seated in the car, Aleks pulls him back out. 

“What the fu-” 

Aleks kisses James before he could finish his sentence. 

It was quick, too quick in James’s opinion. But it was their first and it happened. 

“I’m sorry,” Aleks smirks, “I’ve been wanting to do that for three weeks now.” 

James stares at Aleks in bewilderment, not really sure what happened. He watches Aleks’s stupid, annoying smirk for a few seconds before reacting, then pulls the dork into another kiss. James can’t help but grin into the kiss as Aleks runs slim fingers through his curly hair, teeth clanking, creating a abrupt, dull pain. 

They pull apart but James is still grinning, “You’re such an asshole.” Aleks says, rubbing the top of his teeth. Though, James notes, there’s almost no malice in his voice. 

“Swear word!” James heard Michael say from inside the car, covering his eyes with his palms. 

“Sorry Michael! It slipped.” Aleks laughs, still slipping his fingers through James’s hair, gazing at the older with admiration. 

“If you’re going to kiss again can it be at home? I’m tired.” Michael whines through the window.

James and Aleks pull apart, faces flushed. James thinks this was the best PTA meeting he’s ever attended. 

 


End file.
